For you I'd bleed myself dry
by funga-fu-fu
Summary: After an encounter with Pirate!Arthur Antonio makes a wish to the Britannia Angel; AU; Conquistador!Spain, Pirate!Arthur;
1. Beneath my skin

This fic was actually a request based on my Hetalia one – shot :X

I give cookies to whomever figures out the purpose of this fic! I might even consider another request…

**Pairings:** Arthur/Antonio and Antonio/Arthur; Antonio/Romano; Arthur/Alfred; Gilbert/Roderich;  
**Rating:** For this chapter T for a little blood and cursing; Overall M;  
**Warnings:** cursing, blood, violence;  
**Summary:** After an encounter with the British Empire Antonio makes a wish to the Britannia Angel; AU; Conqustador!Spain, Pirate!Arthur;

**AN:** Somebody make me finish this! Human names are used to show that two characters are very close to each other while country names means that they are simply familiar;  
Maricel is a Spanish female name that derives from the Greek Ares, who was a God of War;  
The "rr" in the Spanish language is used to make the "r" sound more prominent and resonant

Disclaimer: Do not own!

*******************

Arthur stared at the gold coin in his hands. He had picked it up from the floor of his own house on the way out to the World Meeting.

He flipped the thing and looked at the ornaments at the back of it. Spanish, definitely Spanish. One of the many he kept in his basement. Alfred had invaded his cellar, babbling something about Pirates of the Caribbean and a big party. Alfred had taken a few of Arthur's old pirate cloths and must have spilled the coin from some jacket.

Arthur sighed and looked at the old, slightly worn out inscription that marked the piece of gold - Imperio Español.

Antonio.

Arthur couldn't help but wonder about the other. Did Antonio miss the old days? Back when they were Great and chased each other around the seas in a mad race, trying to take more, win more, conquest the other?

He flipped it again and closed his eyes. He could still remember… Steel meeting steel in the middle of the night, while cannonballs flew over their heads, wood splintered and fire illuminated the dark sky. He could still remember how the mast dandled beneath their feet as they crossed weapons and eyes – fiery, bloody and craving death.

Arthur took a deep breath and could smell the gunpowder that had covered their cloths and the alcohol that had spilled on the wet wood. The deafening sound of lead crushing…

"Hell!" Arthur jumped out of his chair as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, sorry… didn't mean to scare you…" Someone was saying and he spun around only to be met with a pair of bright green eyes that were looking sheepishly at him. Then they widened as their owner saw the coin Arthur was still holding. "You still have those?" Antonio beamed at him and reached to take it, but he pulled his hand away instinctively. Their eyes met again and this time Antonio's were slightly startled.

Arthur shivered. There was something dark and sinister shifting behind the other's bright green eyes. Something that Arthur had longed to see for far too long. But then Antonio just shrugged, smiled and turned to walk towards his own seat. He couldn't have controlled his anger even if he wanted to. He grabbed the darker man by the hand, swirled him around and slammed him on the table.

He was furious. Had he really hoped to see the Spanish Empire?! That mortal enemy of his? Was he really that disappointed at what had just transpired? Most importantly how dared Antonio disregard him like that?

"England, what are you…?"

"It's Arrthur, you moron!" He growled through clenched teeth, trying to calm his blazing anger.

"Arrt…, are you sure you're fine, you don't look so good…" Arthur took a deep, calming breath "…sure you…" He wanted to beat some sense into the other "eaten something…" It was wrong. It was all plain wrong. What had happened to them? "…can give you some…" Had he done that? "…have in my jacket outside…" Had he really broken Antonio that much? "…a moment." Was the ache at the pit of his stomach regret? "England." He wanted to kill something. "England!" Preferably South Italy. "Arrthur!"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his own name.

"Can you please move, so I can take the pill?" Antonio smiled that same sweet, caring smile up at him.

"What pill?" He asked, confusion washing over him for a moment and pushing all other emotions away.

"For your stomach ache." The man beneath him said and his lips pouted slightly and Arthur wanted to bash his head in the wooden surface. Yes, his stomach was aching, only the nausea that was currently bubbling in it wasn't caused by any food.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, he whirled the coin between his fingers, before bringing it forwards, so they could both see it. The early morning rays caught on the precious metal and it was once again shiny and new. It brightened with the same pure light that had made man kill for it. It took Arthur's breath away. His heart sped up and he was once again back on the ship, swinging his sword and making his way towards the chest full of gold that lay in the Captain's room. He had been sure that Antonio would be there, waiting for him.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Antonio _had been_ there, sitting on the wooden chest, one hand holding that crazy axe of his and around the other he had been twirling the chain of the key for the box. Not that he had needed the key to open it, but it had been a challenge. One he had lost.

"Isn't it beautiful, Antonio? Don't you miss it?" He asked and couldn't take his eyes off the little piece of metal. Arthur turned it, so Antonio would be able to see the sign "The gleam of gold and taste of blood?" He leaned forward, closer, feeling the other's breath brush over his face. So close, his hand slid around Antonio's neck, just a little bit more "Imperio Español" He breathed and…

Antonio laughed! The fucking moron was _bloody_ laughing!

Arthur's hand squeezed around his captive's neck and the sound quickly turned into chokes and gasps for breath. He tightened his grip even more, anger seething inside of him harder and harder with every passing moment. Antonio wasn't defending, he didn't try pray his hands open or kick him. He just _lay_ there. Arthur let go and slammed his fist on the table, besides the dark locks of the man beneath him.

"_Breath. Breath. Breath." _

Arthur leaned down and whispered in Antonio's ear:

"I _hate _you."

Before he could even finish the words he was on his back, with his hands pressed against the table.

"How can you say such a cruel thing, England?" Antonio asked cheerfully if a little breathy. His cheeks were red and his lips slightly open as he panted for breath. "Here I was hoping that we could forget our past and be friends."

Arthur sneered at those words. Forget the past? Be _friends_?! Who was this person?! Who was he talking with?!

He had Antonio on his back in an instant. He opened his mouth, right about to share exactly what he thought about friendship with the older male when two hands wrapped around his neck and someone blew hot breath in his ear.

Arthur swirled around and grabbed the newcomer by the hand, ready to knock them out, but his attacker had been ready. Pain shot through his hand and he was off the table, with his hands behind his back and pressed against a hard body. He tried kicking at the legs of the person, but he was already being pushed face first on the table with his legs spread wide.

"Let me fucking go, you bastard!" He screamed and twisted his hands, trying to free them from the strong hold.

"Aren't you feisty today, Arty?" Came a mocking voice from above him and Arthur froze.

"Gilbert!" Antonio exclaimed, before he got up from the table and was no longer in Arthur's line of vision.

"What should I do with him, Tonio? Hmmm? Feed him to Francis?"

Arthur sputtered.

"You do that and I'm going to send Russia after you! Gilbert!" He yelled, the slightest bit of panic, crawling into his voice as the mental image of France all over him invaded his untainted inner eye.

The grip that was holding him slackened immediately. Arthur turned around to glare at Gilbert.

"You're not even _supposed_ to be here!"

"Ah, what, can I say? This place just needs awesomeness, ME!"

"Get out!"

"No." Gilbert crossed his arms and smirked at him.

"Gilbert, get out this instance or else…!"

"Else what?"

"Else _Russia_!" Arthur's lips tugged into a leer, showing just the right quantity of teeth.

Gilbert paled. His smirk faltered around the edge, he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Arthur's eyes adverted to Antonio who was snickering in his hand. He took a step towards the dark male and grabbed him by the hair. "I'm not done with you yet." He whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. Their eyes met and he could see the shiver that went through Antonio. Then he let go and headed for the door.

"Three seconds, Gilbert, a twinkle more and you shall become one with mother Russia!" He yelled over his shoulder and shut the door behind him.

Gilbert swallowed hard. He pointed at the door shakily "H-he was kidding, right? He wouldn't do that to his butto, r-right?" The white – head turned towards his friend and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight.

Antonio stood beside him wearing that same maniacal grin Gilbert had only heard legends about. The wide happy eyes had narrowed and gleamed dangerously.

"Arrthur misses me." It came out as a low purr and it sent a shiver down Gilbert's spine. "Should I fulfil his wish… for old, times sake, Gilbert?"

The man in question simply nodded, unable to speak under the pressure of those dark green eyes that were fixated upon him.

"Then it's decided!" Antonio smiled cheerfully, squeezed Gilbert in a bone-crushing hug and exited the room.

*****************

Summoning the Britannia Angel wasn`t as easy as people claimed Antonio decided and slammed his glass on the desk next to him.

Wasn't the thing supposed to come whenever someone wished for something really badly? Well, he wanted to have another round against Arrthur. One more chase. He wanted it quite badly. No one could make his heart race as fast as Arrthur could. Pirate Arrthur, the man that could make you lose your mind from fear by simply existing. _The_ Arrthur that had ruled the Seven seas.

"To His Greatness!" Antonio laughed and lifted his glass in a mock toast. He downed the grappa in one gulp. Or was it rum? He wasn't sure anymore.

The man leaned forward and traced his fingers on the axe that was currently lying on the desk. The blade cut through his rough skin and blood trickled down the cold metal.

"Arrthur…" he breathed before sucking his fingers clean and then wiping them in his pants.

He leaned back in his chair and pushed his hand in his pocket. A small piece of gold gleamed on the dim light. His fingers easily fell into the old movement and he played with it before flipping it in the air and slamming it on his tight.

"_Imperio Español" _

The worlds gleamed as if possessing a light on their own. He had managed to take it from Arthur when he had leaned to breathe his final words. Antonio smirked at the memory. _"Right back at you."_ He thought.

Bright light flashed in the room and Antonio squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. When he opened them he couldn't see a thing. It took him a few moments to notice the person hovering in the middle of his study.

Antonio could do nothing but gape.

There stood the Britannia Angel in all of its glory. Arthur in a dress… Arthur in a short, white dress, revealing his legs that looked suspiciously soft.

"I've come to fulfil your wish." The Angel said and Antonio stared. He could never in a million years imagine that he would hear _this _voice coming out of _this _mouth. It was soft, polite and most certainly caring. Antonio wanted to vomit.

Bright green eyes looked at him expectantly. "How may I be of service?" The Angel repeated and Antonio cleared his throat, trying to recover from his shock and failing.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his tongue. He tried again and this time he actually managed to utter a few words.

"Turn back the time." He said. "Bring Arrthur and I back to 1585. Back to the War that never happened."

The Angel looked carefully at him, before replaying slowly. "I can't do that. I can _not_ under _any_ circumstances endanger time and lives."

Antonio's shoulders sagged. So much for this plan… Guess he had to actually dig out those magic books from his basement and look for something useful.

"There is something else that I can do for you, though." The Angel spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "But remember those words Spanish Empire _"Oh, wonderful moment come to a halt!" _and say them when you are done living in your fantasy."

Antonio was blinded by another flash of light. Suddenly the whole world spun beneath his feet. He choked as the strong smell of burned wood and gunpowder filled his nostrils.

He immediately opened his eyes and sure enough he was standing on a ship in the middle of nowhere. Cannon fire echoed into the night, followed by the screams of the dying and wounded. The world shook again and he stumbled sideway, something heavy dragging him to the right. He caught the thing and swung it. He would have recognized the deadly weapon anywhere. His beloved axe, his Maricel.

His eyes swept over his surroundings. The ship he was currently on was being boarded by another one. Hooks connected the two as people jumped from one to the other. On the light of the fire he could see the black flag, bones dancing with each blow of the wind. A sour smile spread on his face. Of course the Spanish ship was the one getting boarded. It was the _Britannia _Angel after all.

God forbid Arrthur be pure and innocent in any way or form…

* * *

Did you like it? ^.^ Please tell me what you think!


	2. I must confess

Rating: M

Warnings: lime (is that what that's called?) Arthur/Alfred; inappropriate behavior on Arthur's and Antonio's part; violence; plot; fem!Francis;

Disclaimer: Don`t own;

A/N: Alonso Pérez de Guzmán was the Capitan – General of the Armada from 1588 onwards;

H t t .org/wiki/Alonso_Pérez_de_Guzmán,_7th_Duke_of_Medina_Sidonia

Turns out that what I imagine for Antonio's weapon is actually called halberd. I'm gonna change the name in the first chapter later tonight. Just chances are that he actually has a poleaxe on a very long… pole. Go figure.

* * *

Chapter 2: I must confess…

Arthur downed his drink as his brain slowly processed the sight in front of him. His eyes slid over Alfred's form again and again. He had immediately reached the conclusion that his lover should have popped into existence a few hundreds years earlier.

"So what do you think?" Alfred asked, gesturing with his hands and the clank of gold was heard.

"Bloody gorgeous is what I think!" Arthur exclaimed, his eyes drinking up the younger. He took another big gulp from his glass and stood up to stand right in front of his lover.

Frankly speaking those were his own clothes, but he had never imagined that they could look so damn hot! He slid his hand down the soft material of the coat. The rich dark green had faded away with the years, but the fine embroidery was perfectly preserved. The jacket fell heavy over Alfred's hard form and reached till his mid tights. The brownish shirt beneath had once been white. His shapely legs were clad in a pale blue hose that perfectly accentuated Alfred's… gift. That, and the half buttoned shirt that only partly revealed a hard chest.

Arthur slid his hand from the jacket to play with heavy gold necklaces. French, definitely, French.

"Sooo, I take it you're not going to that party after all?" He asked and grabbed the shirt with both hands.

Alfred looked at him, confusion clearly written on his face, before he caught on the way Arthur's eyes were glinting with seduction. For a moment he hesitated, but he had promised that he would go. Johnny Depp was going to be there after all!

"When did I say that? Silly, Arthur, of course I'm going!" He tried to fake innocence and get him self out of the situation, but the glint in Arthur's eyes was getting to him. It promised pure unadulterated pleasure and just like everything that was Arthur…And Alfred wanted it.

Arthur smirked and took a step backwards. He straightened his shirt and vest before bowing to Alfred. "I'll be more than delighted to be at your services for the evening, Captain Jones."

Who talked like that? Alfred wondered for a moment, but then Arthur lifted his head and licked his lips. Whatever thoughts he might have been having were quickly chased away. He took a step forwards and grabbed Arthur by the hand, pulling him against his body.

"A proper English gentleman would do _anything _for their guest is that it?" He asked suddenly amused by the role reversal. If anything he wanted Arthur to be the pirate. The British Empire… "Even if the guest is nothing, but a mere thug?"

"It's an indicator of a good upbringing." Arthur answered and even to him the words sounded fake. Was there a person with a good upbringing in this room? He laughed at the though. He had failed with Alfred, hadn't he?

"But that's the way I want you." He finished his thought out loud before grabbing Alfred by the neck and pulling him in for a kiss. He pushed the other male back and on the couch, before straddling his lap and once again capturing his lips. He bit harsh on his lover's lower lip, demanding access. The moment it was granted he pushed his tongue inside, kissing Alfred hard. Arthur rolled his hips and a warm wave passed through him when he felt muscles flexing against him. His hands slid over Alfred's arms and shoulders, and then he grabbed the shirt and ripped it open. The old threads gave easily and buttons flew in around them.

"I like that one!" Alfred protested.

"So did I… 400 hundreds years ago." He added as an afterthought before kissing Alfred's neck and then biting at the soft skin. He sucked and licked at the flesh between his teeth. The younger grunted and turned his head, encouraging more. Hips buckled beneath Arthur and he pressed down, craving to feel the other.

"You forgot the hat and scarf." He stated simply and slid his hands down Alfred's stomach.

"Too pompous." The younger answered, as he worked on the buttons of Arthur's vest and then sliding it of.

"Is that so? I liked those hats." Blue eyes snapped at his.

Lie.

He had never been able to stand the sight of them. He had walked around with only a crimson scarf around his head and it had taken a royal order to make him wear a hat. He had obeyed it only on national events.

"I… they're stupid." Alfred insisted and Arthur slid out of his lap. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Don't worry." The older kicked his legs open and crouched between them.

Arthur really had to make a list of things that _didn't_ excite him. France would be number one. But he had just discovered that pirate clothes could be very _very _hot. Alfred looked positively debauched with the way his azure eyes gleamed with want and a slight flush had spread over his body. Arthur also had something going for the way Alfred's skin colored whenever he was thinking something inappropriate. Judging by the smirk the young man had his thoughts were anything but clean and pure.

Arthur slid his hands up Alfred's tights. He bypassed the hardened length and slid his hands to the other's belt. He mouthed the warm skin at the hem of the hose, before licking his way down.

Alfred moaned and flexed his hips to meet the wicked mouth. He suddenly really wanted to be devoured, sucked until he couldn't take it anymore. Warm breath ghosted over his sensitive skin and he trembled. He rested his head backwards, a fine shiver running through him, waiting for the hot lips and sinful tongue to take him. But nothing happened. Alfred looked down only to be met with a pair of green eyes. Arthur was looking at him with a wide smug grin on his face.

His world was suddenly enveloped in warm heat. He slammed his head on the couch and lifted his hips. His blood rushed to meet the tongue that slid over him.

Arthur sucked harder. Alfred's body gave under his ministrations and his lover became fully erect. He yanked the other's pants down to his ankles and lifted himself to kiss the blond. His tongue went in and out of the Alfred's mouth, while his hand wrapped around the hardness that was pressing against his stomach. His lover whimpered as he started pumping him roughly. He squeezed and Alfred moaned, breaking away, only to present his neck. Arthur couldn't resist, though. There were parts of him that defied taming. He bit down at the soft skin and Alfred jerked in his hand, another moan, filling the suddenly humid air.

He slid downwards to taste and pleasure the younger. There were parts of him that he couldn't control. Like the powerful ache that ramped through him. He wanted to make Alfred lose it from pleasure. He wanted to make him scream his name. He wanted it now. Arthur wrapped his mouth around the heated flesh again and gave another hard suck. The man in his arms arched and moaned, but that was no where near enough. They were both just getting started.

He raked his hands down Alfred's tights, fingernails scrapping the sensitive skin. The body in his arms gave another shiver and Arthur could feel the responding heat in his gut. He grabbed Alfred by the waist and pulled him closer. He slid his tongue up the underside of the other's cock and could smell Alfred. It was a specific, undefined smell that he would have recognized anywhere. It was purely Alfred and it sent desire coursing through him. He tongued the head, coaxing it to leak with his lover's essence, but it was too soon. Alfred wasn't excited enough. That could easily be changed, though. Arthur smirked.

He slid one hand between his lover's tights and started slowly massaging the muscles there.

"Art..thu…" Alfred choked and his legs opened instinctively, allowing the older more access. Heat bubbled in his stomach as a finger started to slowly work itself inside of him. His body thrilled and he was breathing ragged. "Arthur." He moaned even louder and his hips jerked in anticipation. Slow licks and kisses littered his skin, only teasing him and not truly giving him what he wanted. He wished Arthur's mouth would swallow him whole and damn him to the mind blowing pleasure only he could give him.

"Oh my…!" Alfred's eyes snapped open as his wish came true and he was wrapped in the tight heat of Arthur's throat. It constricted around him, eliciting a loud moan from him. But that was nothing. Nothing compared to the deep groan that he let out as that spot deep inside of him was unexpectedly stroked. _When did that finger…? _The thought trailed off and Arthur started sucking him quite hard. Hard enough to make white spots dance before his closed eyes.

"More!" He breathed and rolled his hips. A sighed in relief escaped him as he felt another finger slowly work itself inside of him. Maybe not the best idea ever, he decided as Arthur chose that moment to tongue his slit. Or wasn't it?

Another groan escaped him as the fingers started stretching him. The sting mixed with his pleasure and he arched, sliding himself on the appendages as best as he could in his current position. The pleasure curling in his gut was becoming white with its intensity.

Fingers buried in Arthur's hair and tugged at the strands. He licked and sucked at Alfred's head, trying to get more, taste more of his lover. By now all restraints have been forgotten and as he brushed over the younger's sweet spot over and over again the moans and groans that have occasionally filled the room started bordering on screams. He lapped at the pre - cum that was leaking freely by now. Then wrapped a hand around the base of Alfred's shaft to prevent him from coming and took him all the way in.

Pleasure exploded inside his body and he arched, every muscle inside of him pulling tight.

"Arthur!" But instead of coming he was just left there hanging. His body was hovering on the brink of orgasm and it was being denied to him.

Arthur wanted to reach down and touch himself. He wanted Alfred to reach down and touch him or better yet - take him in his more than willing body. He licked slowly at the hard cock in his hand, so the pressure could ebb away from the body he was playing with.

The fingers in his hair pulled hard at the strands, demanding release. Arthur brought Alfred to the top over and over again, but never giving him the chance to come. It was pure sensual delight and it bordered on torture. One that Alfred didn't mind enduring as long as the promised mind blowing orgasm actually came. Soon. Very soon.

Something flashed in the room, but behind his closed lids he couldn't see or find it in himself to give a damn as long as Arthur…

That's when it registered. The hot mouth and wicked hands were gone from his body. Alfred opened his eyes to find out that Arthur was no where to be found.

* * *

"CAP'N! RIGHT ON BOARD!!!"

Arthur spun, tripping over and nearly falling face first on… was that a deck? The world swung and he snapped his head to look at his surroundings. At that moment a few realizations crashed over him:

Alfred cock wasn't in his mouth anymore.

He was on a ship.

Waging a battle.

His was boarding another one.

"CAP'N!!!" Someone screamed and this time he was very forcefully spun around. His eyes widened as another realization washed over him.

The Armada.

In the dark he couldn't see the ships, but easily counted at least 20 lanterns. He swallowed. His mind reeled with the information. Twenty. That was too big of a number, even if most of them were merchant vessels. But he knew that there were a few galleons, hiding in the heap. He could see their bigger shadows against the night sky.

"Report!" He commanded and turned to look at the man that had grabbed him. Only it wasn't a man. It was girl. A few years younger than he was, platinum hair, pulled back in a loose bun and blue eyes looking away from his. Her navy dress was changed for a white shirt and leather pants that were tucked in high boots. Her signature bow was tied around a battered old hat, completing the look. "Belarus!" Arthur gaped and stared at her. What… How…

_Where _in the Devils namewas he!?

She handed him the horn that she held in her other hand. Arthur took it and looked at it, puzzled.

"Seventeen Cruisers and four Galleons. Two of our flyboats were heavily damaged before boarding the chase, one frigate is being boarded."

Retreat.

He jumped to the rudder and blew the horn three times. Retreat. Everyone alive move your asses and get out of here! Arthur was about to turn and really look at the situation, maybe find out what the hell was happening here when something caught his eyes.

There, on the other ship he could see red fluttering in the wind. A glint of steel flashed in the pale moon rays and Arthur's blood boiled up. He jumped from where he was. His feat carried him to the nearest hook and he was about to jump over to the Spanish galleon when a hand tugged him backwards.

"Cap'n?" Belarus asked, trying to change his course.

"Fire at the bastard as you retreat." Arthur commanded and yanked his hand free.

He jumped the distance between the two vessels and landed with a small stagger. He was out of shape. But the mad rush beating in him didn't care. He had to get to the rudder and find his old enemy. Antonio. The Spanish Empire.

The red of Antonio's coat waved with each of his movements. Maricel was swung around and blood sprouted, filling the night air with sweet smell. _"Bloody fools." _Arthur thought as the blade easily cut through one of his crew member's stomach. How many times had he told them? Do _not_ go anywhere near that demon. Antonio was his and his only.

He stalked forward, evading the battling groups and pairs around him. He had eyes for one person only. He reached to his belt and took out both swords he carried there. One was for special occasions such as this. First time he had faced Antonio he had won. Second time the bastard already had his halberd and Arthur hadn't been a match, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Third time they fought he had mastered handling two swords at the same time… they ended up even.

His whole body shook in anticipation as he went up the few stairs that led to the rudder's platform. Antonio hadn't noticed him. He was too busy slicing and maiming his enemy to see him. Arthur leered at the sight. Indeed a demon.

A sharp pain made him take a step backwards. He looked to the right only to be met with angry blue eyes. A sword was being pointed against him, held by an elegant arm.

"And who might ye be?" He asked smiling at the woman that glared at him.

That was the wrong thing to say obviously. His body reacted to the movement instinctively, before his brain could process it. His sword met the woman's and he evaded stepping to the right and out of the way. She swung around, lashing at him. Arthur retreated.

"You blighter! You promised me!"

He had? He knew her? Oh.

But he would have definitely remembered if he had met someone like her. Despite the situation he found her quite attractive.

"Refresh my memory, would ye?"

Arthur's eyes shot to her breasts as she took a deep breath. They were straining against the material of the night gown she was wearing. The woman flipped her long blond hair backwards and spoke more calmly this time.

"I see. Then I have no other choice than to kill you to defend my honor."

Her honor? He'd done her?

She flung at him again and there was something familiar about the way she moved. Something about the gracefulness of her sword and the unnecessary broad movements she was making.

He didn't have time for this now. There was someone he was burning to see and the woman was only hindering him. He turned to see where Antonio was and felt cold steal pressing against his neck.

Definitely out of shape.

"Marie – France. You shall die by my hand you lowly scum."

She lifted his hand to deliver the final blow.

*************

Antonio was about ready to pout. He poked at the guts that were lying on the wood in front of him. This was boring. He had caught a glimpse of Arrthur jumping around his ship and towards the boarding hooks. But that had been an eternity ago.

He kicked at the poor bastards bowels and sighed heavily. He turned around to have one more look at his surroundings and that's when he spotted Arrthur's crimson scarf. The man was fighting just a few meters away from him with a woman of all things.

Antonio swung Maricel over his shoulders and headed towards to where the pair was exchanging quick blows. Arrthur's moves lacked their usual agility, he noted as the woman managed to slice his left sleeve open. Arrthur had evaded and his arm was left unharmed, but the whole scene made Antonio's stomach sunk.

Or maybe Arrthur didn't like fighting women?

Antonio shrugged and contemplated letting him finish his fight. But then all of a sudden the woman had her sword pressed against Arrthur's throat. Antonio froze. His heart skipped a beat. Did she…? The chill that went down his body made him nauseas. But Arrthur was still standing when she lifted her weapon, ready for a real blow.

He swung his halberd and jumped the rest of the distance. He grabbed the handle from both sides of the blades and pressed the woman to him. The bigger edge touched her hair gently and she froze in his arms.

***********

Arthur couldn't react, his brain all too busy processing this new little piece of information.

_Marie__–France? _As in Francis, France?! This was getting weirder and weirder by the minute. Not to mention the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

He nearly forgot to dodge, but her guttural scream spurred him back into action and he jumped sideways avoiding the blow. He spun around ready to deflect another, but his eyes met fiery green ones and he stopped in his tracks.

Antonio smirked at him and switched the halberd from one hand to the other. He brushed the woman's… France's hair out of her face and whispered something into her ear and even Arthur could see her pail on the moonlight and burning fire. She nodded and the man let her go. She was all too quick to leave the area. Antonio frowned at her retreating back. Arthur could see the question etched on his dark features. Puzzled greens eyes looked at him and he simply nodded at the unspoken question. Yes, that had been France.

Antonio's eyebrows rose even higher before he shrugged and turned his darkened eyes towards him. Arthur lunged forward attacking with his right hand, while the halberd fell heavy on him.

"Bloody…!!!" He jumped to the side as his hand gave under the weight of the other's weapon. He had forgotten how heavy the damned thing was! Yet Antonio was able to swing it with one hand. The blade followed him and would have sliced him if he hadn't evaded to the side.

"First blood, Antonio." He smirked pointing with his sword where the other's shirt was torn and a fresh wound was bleeding. He had managed to swing his left blade during the first jump.

Antonio did the same – merely pointing at Arthur's legs. He looked down to see that indeed he was bleeding from his left tight. Obviously his second jump wasn't as good as he thought.

That's when he realized something – he was still hard from sucking off Alfred. The confusion of the situation hadn't helped his state.

"What arre ye thinking, Arrthur?" It came out as low, drawn out purr and itmade the hairs on his hands rise. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. He snapped his eyes upwards and the expression Antonio had made him grip his sword just that bit much harder. It was challenging and cocky and…

"You." He answered "Chained in my cell."

"As if that would happen." Antonio charged forward. This time Arthur had been ready. He met the blade with his own, quickly stepped around the other. He lifted his sword and was about to cut his opponent in half when he saw the halberd flying towards his face. Arthur evaded again. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. To top it all in order to match him Antonio had worked on becoming ambidextrous.

"As if I haven't heard that one before."

"Tc, Arrthur, I knew you missed me, but that much?" Antonio smirked and this time it was Arthur that attacked first. He slid beneath the sharp edge and stood, grabbing the other by the neck and pressing his sword in the soft skin. He could feel the weight of the halberd as it flung in Antonio's hands, only to end up pressed in his own back.

"You would've been dead by now." Arthur stated, satisfaction dripping from his voice.

"You'd stay here forever if I die."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. What was that supposed to mean? Did the brainless idiot do something?!

"What'd ya do?!" He growled, pressing his blade firmer in the tanned neck.

"Lose and I'll tell you."

"What!?" Antonio just smiled at him. That sweet, innocent smile that he had seen him wear countless times during the last few centuries.

"That's blackmail!" Arthur protested, despite himself and Antonio just laughed.

"_That _coming from a pirate. But you don't have much of a choice…" the Spaniard nodded with his head and for the first time Arthur noticed their surroundings. His people were gone. The ones that were left were either dead or captured. His ships have left and now in their place stood the vessels of the Spanish Armada.

Around them, in a tight circle stood Spanish soldiers. They were all gripping guns that were pointed at him.

The blade against his back pushed at him and he found himself pressed firmly against Antonio. A hand buried it self in his hair and he froze as the older leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"You lose, Arrthur." With that hard lips pressed against his.

Arthur pressed his sword against Antonio's neck, drawing blood, but that didn't deter the other. Maricel fell on the deck with a loud thud and his right hand was yanked away from the other's neck. Another one pressed against the bulge in his pants and he gasped. A tongue snuck into his mouth and he noticed vaguely that Antonio smelled like whiskey. But he didn't have much time to contemplate on this as his cock was fondled quite roughly. His hips jerked in the familiar touch out of their own violation. He dropped his swords and grabbed Antonio's hair, pushing against his tongue.

It was bitter sweet. Antonio smelled like gunpowder and reeked of blood. The big hands that were roaming his body were familiar and yet he had never thought he'll feel them again. The emotions that whirled inside of him were like an old wine, a present from a friend he never thought he'll meet again. It was good, mind numbingly good. Yet it brought so many memories. Some of them sweet, but so many dark ones, that it took his breath away. Despite that, or maybe because of that he couldn't detach himself from Antonio. South Italy could have his Spain, but right now Arthur needed el Imperio Español.

He pulled Antonio's head backwards and started sucking on the shallow cut, licking away the blood. Their lips met again and the other moaned at the taste. Their bodies pressed firmly together. Arthur bit down on the soft lips and his enemy pulled away. He tried forcing him back into a kiss, but it was evaded.

"Antonio! Behave!"

Someone said and Arthur turned to glare at the newcomer. His lips tugged in a snarl as he recognized the big nose and pointy ears.

"Guzmán."

"British Empire! It's not a pleasure to meet you at all!"

Arthur made for his sword, but two strong hands held him in place.

The man went to where the blades have fallen and picked them up. He lifted one towards the moon and inspected it. Dark liquid covered it from tip to handle. He waved it and pressed it right between Arthur's eyes.

"This is our blood you spilled. And you are going to pay for it."

"Big words, Capitán–General, but it's hard to take you seriously when your country is rubbing my dick."

Antonio that had been leisurely pumping him stopped in mid–stroke. Arthur wanted to turn and tell him to keep going, but an angry voice filled his ears.

"Chain him and bring him to my cabin!"

Arthur tried to run for it, but a few sailors were already by his side trying to force a rope around him. Unfortunately for them he was stronger than he looked.

Antonio quickly pulled his coat over the bulge in his pants. He went around the melee and stepped closer to Alonso.

"I need him in my room."

"I am not leaving you alone with that scum."

"Chain him and bring him to me." Antonio's eyes bore in the man in front of him. The Capitán–General quickly averted his gaze.

He didn't wait for a reply, but simply walked away to his own chamber. It was at the very back of the ship. He opened the door and took off his coat. He didn't bother with the light. Next came his shirt and he was working on his pants when a knock on his door made him pause.

"Enter!"

"We have the prisoner, sir."

"Leave him there." He waved with his hands and looked around the room for something to make light with. The problem was that he wasn't even sure what he was looking for. He walked towards the desk at the end of the room and spotted a few candles. That had to do for now he decided. He used the matches that lay nearby and turned around to walk to Arrthur.

Arrthur was kneeling in the middle of the room with his hands tied around his back and another one around his upper hands. Antonio reached and took off the gag and immediately regretted it as a stream of profanities and curses filled his ears. Some of them were in Spanish he noted as he pulled a chair to sit in front of Arrthur.

"Ahoy, Ye Grreatness!" He touched his forehead in a mock salute and sprawled on the chair.

"Antonio! What did you do, you moron!? Where the hell are we!? Let me out of here!" Arthur demanded to know, all the while tugging on the thick ropes around him.

"Your swords are stashed under the rudder."

Arthur stopped for a moment to look at him. "You are telling me this, because?"

"It's too early for you to be captured." Antonio answered simply and leaned forward, grabbing Arthur by the hair. "Where would the fun in that be?"

"What did you do?"

"Nothing." Antonio shrugged and looked around. There was supposed to be alcohol somewhere here. His eyes zeroed on the desk. He jumped from his seat and walked to it.

"What do you mean nothing?! Spew it out or I swear…!!!"

"What?" Antonio asked, opening the cupboard and inspecting its contents. He felt like rum. He pulled the bottle and sat back on his chair.

"You made a wish, didn't you?" Arthur asked through clenched teeth.

"Ahh…" Antonio answered as he opened the bottle and chugged a few big gulps. "Want some?" He offered, but Arthur ignored it in favour of more urgent matters.

"What exactly did you wish for, you bloody imbecile?!"

"This." The older exclaimed and made a wide gesture with the bottle.

"And when is _this _supposed to end?"

"When I say _"Oh, joyous moment end!"_ we'll be back in the real world."

Arthur waited. Then waited some more, but nothing happened.

"I'll crush ye barnacles, ye addlepate!" Arthur barked and it came out too easy for comfort. The whole bloody situation was getting to him.

"Now, now, me bucko ye say that and ye'll walk the plank."

Arthur stared at him for a moment. "You're terrible at this!"

"I'm not the pirate here." Antonio remarked before lifting the bottle to his lips again. He coughed and smelled the bottle "Fucking whiskey…" he murmured, before lifting it again.

He slid from his chair and grabbed Arrthur's head, before pressing his lips to the blond's. Arthur opened his mouth and the amber liquid invaded his senses. He gulped before returning the kiss. He was suddenly very aware of how undressed Antonio was. He wanted to run his hands over the smooth well defined muscles. He wanted to open his pants all the way and just…

Something tugged at the back of his mind. An image of a certain blue eyed blond flashed in front of his eyes and he tried to pull away. The hold on his hair held him in place, though.

"Alfred and Romano…" He tried saying, but was on his back in an instant.

"This doesn't have _anything _to do with them. _This _has never been about love." Antonio leaned closer and added in his ear "It's about ownership and possession."

Arthur couldn't have agreed more. His mouth opened when the other demanded it. Their tongues slid against each with old familiarity. He rolled his hips upwards in an attempt to convince Antonio to untie him. Both groaned in the kiss.

That was the moment when the door was flung open and the Guzmán stormed in the room with a small group of soldiers behind him.

"What in God's name are you doing?!" The Capitán–General exclaimed, anger and outrage mixing in his voice.

"Enjoying my catch." Antonio answered, but stood up from him.

"You…!!! I'm going to have to talk with King for this. It's simply not acceptable." Antonio shrugged him off before eyeing the bottle that was lying on its side. He peered inside and saw a few more drops inside. "We are throwing him in the ocean."

"He'll be sleeping in Davy Jones' locker." Antonio nodded. "Fitting for a pirate, don't you think?" He turned towards Arrthur, but the gag was back on place and the only thing he heard were muffled _mmmmfffsss and pfffes. _"Unless there's an island in the north from here. Then someone might find his body." He added offhandedly. His eyes fell on the map behind the desk. He couldn't even guess where they were. But there was always something in the north, right? Or south for that matter…


	3. What, where, when, how and WHY!

Ahhh , sorry about the delay *angel* Exams aaand my Spanish beta ran of to somewhere *glares at California*

Also I wanna say Thank you! to Nerica that reviewed on the second chapter and everyone that added it to favs/alerts! ^.^

Disclaimer: Do not own!

Warnings: violence, language (both English and Spanish); fem!France and Romano in a dress;

Also there's a one shot, describing what happens in the canon world when Arthur and Antonio disappear in the AU world. It's called The day the word map change and you can find it on my profile *is shot for self advertisement*

Enjoy and review!

* * *

Antonio watched as Arthur was being dragged out of the room kicking and screaming. Or at least the closest he could get to it in his current state. He himself had thrown Arthur a few times overboard. The first two or three times he had even made him walk the plank. Fun times. Someone would jab Arthur with a long sharp stick until he would fall off. Then they would celebrate. Then Arthur would come, wreck his ships and punish Antonio.

He scowled. No, that hadn't been fun.

He went to the basin that was set close to the bed. He needed to wash the grime off his body. His face was a nice beginning. Maybe later he'll be able to figure out how to wash the…

"Where is your cross?"

…rest of his body.

"What?"

"Where is the cross that King Philip gave you?"

Aah… That one. Antonio had given it to Romano as a gift.

"Gone." He stated simply. It was none of Alonso's business anyway.

"Along with your faith I see."

Of course.

"What might you be talking about?" Antonio spun around with a bright smile on his face "Don't I fight in the name of God? Aren't I trying to show his children the right path?"

Guzmán snorted in response.

"God would never approve of what you're doing with that heretic dog!"

"But I was merely claiming victory!" He laughed and went to hug the man, but was promptly pushed away.

"I'm not an idiot, Antonio!" Alonso raised his voice "You can't fool me with innocent smiles and childish looks! I know what you are!" The man stopped to take a deep breath.

Antonio filled the glass of water that was standing next to the basin and went to the Capitán-General.

"There, drink that. You have to watch your health. It's no good like that."

But his offering was pushed away and the water spilled on the ground.

"And to think that we fight in your name, Spanish Empire." He sighed before leaving the room.

***********

Arthur was shoved to the left railing of the ship. One of the soldiers came closer and took off the cloth that had been silencing him till now.

"¿Tus ultimas palabras son…?"[_Any last words you wanna say?]_

Arthur glared at the three men in front of him. He swore to the Devil he was going to kill Antonio! He glanced towards the rudder. Too far away. One of them was pointing a gun at him. With his hands tied he was never going to make it…

"_¡__Cobardes__!" [You cowards!] _He spat, his Spanish really wasn't all that great, but there was no other way the three fools in front of him were going to understand him "¿Pensáis que su capitán estaria satisfecho si simplemente moriré?! ¡Os matará, cuando Guzmán dejare el barco!" _ [You think that Capitan of yours would be happy if I just die? You'll be sea food once Guzmán leaves!]_

The three looked at each other and Arthur could see understanding dawning on their faces. Bloody fools if they fell for that! Then one of them opened his eyes and Arthur felt the need to bash his head in the deck.

"¿Esta el puto del Capitán, no? No le gustare si ahogaríamos este hijo de puta!_[He's the captain's bitch, isn't he? __The captain might not like it if we just drown the son of a bitch.]_

Arthur gaped at the man that had spoken. _Antonio's bitch!? _Him!? He choked on his anger. That was what he had implied, but being called a slag outright was… someone was going to die really soon. _Painfully…_

"¿Y que haremos con el? El Capitán-General ha dicho que lo ahoguemos_…_ " _[So what do we do? The Capitán-General said to drown him.]_

"No podemos desafiar ordenes." _[We can't defy orders.]_

"¿Por que no me dejes en el mar?_[Why... __Why don't you just let me go, hmm?]_ Arthur inserted "Yo moriré ahí."_[I'm as good as dead out there.]_

The three stared at him again, processing the statement.

"¿Y si tu barco te espera, canalla?"_[What if your ship is waiting, scoundrel?] _

"No es importante." _[They'll take him anyway.]_ The one with the gun staid "Pero tengo una idea mejor." _[But I have a better idea. Take off his ropes.]_

The other two stared, but quickly spurred into motion. First came off the ropes around his upper arms and then the ones around his wrists. His whole body tensed, preparing for a battle. He could easily take out the three, despite everything.

Sharp pain shot through him. He screamed and grasped his ribs as warm liquid seeped through the wound.

"No puedes decir que los españoles no son misericordioso, ¿verdad? _[Can't say the Spaniards, aren't merciful, can you?] _Someone laughed and he was pushed off the ship and into the dark waters.

* * *

Antonio had been woken up at the early hours of the morning. He had gotten so used to sleeping till noon that he nearly ignored the insistent banging on the door. His sleepy mind had written it off as either Gilbert or Francis trying to drag him in another pub. It had happened. The two of them would drink till morning, forgetting about time and then they would come and fetch him off his bed and into the basement where he kept most of his alcohol. He was simply amazed by the amount of alcohol that those two could consume. But then again there were the times when it was Gilbert and him banging on Francis's door at 10 a.m….

He rolled off bed and opened the door. The only thing that registered in his mind was blond before he was wrapped in a tight hug.

"I was so scared!" a woman sobbed in his arms "Those pirates! I though we were going to die!"

He tore her away from him to look more carefully at her face.

"Fra… Marie – France!" He exclaimed, his brain catching with the events from last night.

"Oh mon Dieu! You're naked!" She spun around on her heels. "I'm so sorry! I should have knocked!"

"Don't worry." Antonio smiled, even though she couldn't see it. He went back inside the room and quickly located what he supposed was the wardrobe. Pants, a shirt and he was as presentable as he was willing to be this early in the morning.

"Come in." The woman took a few hesitant steps inside and he offered her one of the chairs.

"I am sorry for barging in like that. I was just excited. After you… ordered me to leave you with that… pirate I was greatly worried about you, Espagnol. No one would tell me what happened and I had to see you. I hope you understand."

"I'm fine." He smiled gently at her and sat on the chair across her. "We even captured him and he was thrown in the sea."

Her eyes widened and Antonio almost raised his eye brows. Was that supposed to be Francis? The Britannia Angel had one heck of an imagination that was for sure.

"He won't bother you anymore, I can assure you." He continued still smiling sweetly at her "But going against Arrt – The British Empire! You definitely shouldn't have done that, señorita."

"I... please don't tell anyone!" She grabbed his hands and her blue eyes became impossibly wide. "I had to do it!"

"But why? You know it might be taken as a declaration of war!"

She bit her lower lip and looked away. Antonio waited for her response. It was weird and yet in some way strangely comfortable. Sitting here in his cabin, feeling the ship rock gently beneath them and the smell of the sea filling his senses. Arrthur was also somewhere out there… he had to find a way to repair his ships and prepare for another battle. Arrthur was probably already plotting revenge.

"I'm sorry, but I can't confide in you. The matter is too personal."

"I understand. But don't worry, I am not going to tell anyone about what I saw yesterday. And if you ever need help, I'll be more than glad to help." He smiled again.

But curiosity was eating at him. What was so personal that Francis wouldn't tell him? If he knew the old pervert, and he knew him pretty well, then there was no such thing as personal.

He stood up and walked her to the door.

Antonio clapped his hands and started humming softly as he went back to the map. First things first. The Angel had set a scene for them and he had to find out what, where, when, how and why. Even though poking at the last question didn't seem like a good idea he had to at least try.

His smile widened to a smirk. He had the advantage in this situation. Arrthur was somewhere, talking to a fish, while he was on a ship full of answers. Wreck as it was, it was still standing and that was all he needed.

Antonio followed the map, trying to roughly estimate the year. Asking someone wouldn't do any good. Alonso had been his Capitan-General between 1588 and 1615, so that pretty much narrowed it down, but the period was too broad for his liking. What was Francis doing on his ship anyway? In what condition was his ship?

He sighed and put on his shoes. Duty called. He still needed a bath.

As soon as he opened the door he felt the sultry sun beating down on him. He blinked a few times and lifted his head, enjoying the sensation of the hot rays falling over his skin. He took a deep breath and smelled the sea. He could taste it even as he licked his lips. Antonio could hear his crew working near him. The sound of hammers as they banged over the boards and repaired the ship, echoed in his ears. Orders and curses filled the air and it buzzed with energy.

"Capitan."

Antonio opened his eyes to look at the man that had addressed him. His eyes slid over blond hair and fair skin. Dull blue eyes met his and all he could do, once again, was stare.

"N-nor-way!" Antonio stammered. The blond's expression didn't change at all at hearing how Antonio had addressed him.

"Lucas, Captain." And then he added "We started repairing the ship with materials from the frigate. We'll be done by tonight. We have a minimal digression from the course, so we'll be able to reach the port with a two days delay. Supplies are being transferred to the lower decks as we speak."

"Any prisoners?"

"No, Captain. They managed to escape."

"Of course." He nodded at Nor… Lucas, before walking forward to inspect the damage himself. But then he remembered something and turned around "Did we lose a lot of people?"

"Thirty four dead and seventeen wounded."

Antonio nodded. Lucas waited for any other questions, but none came. He just turned and walked through his ship, inspecting the damages and the work. There were still men scouring blood from the deck, but most of them were working on mending the ship back together. On his left side stood another Spanish galleon. It was connected with a ladder to his and sailors were carrying heavy wooden boxes with provisions. This reminded him…

He turned around, but Norway was already gone. He looked around, but he couldn't see blond in the sea of black and brown hair.

"Captain Carriedo!" A man waved at him from the other ship, before crossing the small distance and coming to stand in front of him. "Capitan Alcántara would like to invite you to his cabin for an afternoon drink."

"Does he have a bath?" Antonio shot out before he could think over it. The man looked him over puzzled, before nodding slowly. "Then I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He beamed a smile at the sailor before turning around and walking back to his cabin. He quickly searched the place and came up with a bar of soap and a bottle of a shampoo. He took out more cloths and went out to the other ship…

*************

Five days. They had been late with five days. The repayments hadn't gone as smoothly as they had planned. The rest of Antonio's ships were in much more dire conditions than his galleon. He suspected that Arrthur had gone easy on the ship, because he had planned to take over it.

As annoying as Alcántara's company had turned out to be he had managed to learn a few useful things. Like for example the harbour on which they've just stepped on was called La Rochelle. French, almost 500 kilometres away from Paris. They were supposed to live Francis here and hand him over to an army escort that would take her to the capital. This was also where he was supposed to meet one of the Italian princesses, but he couldn't find out why exactly.

Antonio looked towards the two women. France was clutching the Italian princess's hands and saying something in fast, excited words. Then she hugged the other woman and started kissing her cheeks. The upper part of the princess's face was covered in a mask. It was simple, lacking any ornaments or decorations. It was the same colour as her dark green dress.

"I have to admit to you, Carriedo, I've always wondered what is she hiding behind that mask of hers." Alcántara said from beside him. "The few that have seen her say that she is a girl of extraordinary beauty. They say that her mother traded the peace of the country for her daughter's beauty."

Antonio smiled, keeping the scoff to himself. If that made sense…

"You know what they say?" Alcántara continued "They say that the war that's tearing Italy is because of her. The leaders are killing themselves out of jealousy. The winner can take the princes as his wife."

This time Antonio scowled and his eyes narrowed at the person that Marie-France was once again clutching. That couldn't be right. At the end of sixteen century he was the one in possession of Milan and Naples. No wars have been…

His thoughts abruptly came to a halt as he finally took a proper look of the princess. He choked as laughter threatened to erupt from his throat. He would recognize that sour look and big green eyes anywhere!

"Roma!" He laughed out loud and everyone turned to look at him.

Surely there he was! He prayed to all Gods that Romano was a _he!_ Covered from head to toe in layers and layers of velvet and lace. Now that he was properly looking he could see that the mask wasn't simple at all, rather it paled in comparison with the dress. The petticoat was draped over a cartwheel farthingale so big that Roma could gather the whole Armada in there! And there would probably be some space left! His eyes slid to the enormous sleeves and the even bigger ruff. Dios! This was wrong!

Antonio was shaking. He couldn't stop his laughter. Alcántara nudged him, but to no avail.

*********

Arthur opened his eyes and groaned in protest against the bright light.

He was lying on a bed. The sheets were soft against his bare skin. He was in a spacious bedroom. A large table, surrounded by armchairs was positioned on the right of the bed. On the wall opposite of him was a stony fireplace, left from old times. Several large bookshelves were ordered next to the walls. The empty space was covered in paintings and arts of artists that Arthur couldn't name.

He inhaled the soft smell that was carrying in the air. Linden. He looked around to find the open door that led to a balcony.

If this was hell Arthur wouldn't mind staying here. He removed the sheets and lifted the clean shirt he was dressed in. His wound had been cleaned and bandaged. But by who? Friend or foe?

He looked around again, searching for some clues as to where he was.

Arthur knew very well how the wound was given to him. He might not remember what he was doing when he was the Britannia Angel, but he sure as hell remembered what happened yesterday! A feral grin spread over his face. Oh, he was going to find Antonio and he was going to make him pay for this! It was going to be slow and torturous and the damned cockroach was going to wish he had never been born!

That's when his mind supplied him with a particularly vivid image of last night. Marie-France! He shivered at the thought. He was seriously starting to consider that the Britannia Angel hated him. Was that even possible? His own alter ego?

That's when he noticed the book that was lying on the chair next to the bed. He reached over and took it. When he opened it he realized that it was in a fact a diary. The handwriting in it was sloppy, and tilted to the side. The letters were familiar, but they didn't fit with the language. He knew those wide "O"'s and round circles of the "B"s, "P"s, "D"s and mostly everything. There was no way that he would mistake the big bow with which the capital "A" begun. He red the first few sentences of the page and it was definitely German.

"_We escaped! Not surprisingly, though. They __didn't stand a chance against our magnificent trio!"_

Arthur flipped the diary to the first page, but there was no name, no initials, nothing. He carefully put it back on the chair.

That still didn't answer his question. Guzmán meant the end of the sixteenth centuries. Those were dangerous times, when allies were changed at the drop of a hat. The situation was even more complicated, because the Britannia Angel didn't seem to think that logic was important enough. But then again when you could do anything, why would logic be important?

Arthur sighed and relaxed back on the pillows. Whoever had taken him couldn't be his enemy. He was still alive after all. If the person just happened to be an enemy… well he would lie, cheat and escape.

He had to contact his ship. He had to get out of here. He had to find Antonio and punish the low life for what he'd done. Dragging him in another bloody universe! And for what?! He was sure even the idiot didn't know himself.

Arthur gritted his teeth in annoyance. The imbecile had even had the audacity to _forget _what the Angel had told him! What was it?! "Oh, wonderful moment, come to a halt!" Arthur tried to remember Antonio's words, but he was sure that wasn't it. He had to find out what the Angel had said and get them out of here.

He had to find Belarus and his ship. He had to…

Clank of steel registered in his ears and he perked up. It came from the open balcony, but he couldn't see anything from his position.

He slowly moved himself to sit on the edge of the bed and stood up. His legs gave up underneath him and he collapsed back on the bed. Arthur yelped at the pain that shot from his wound. He breathed in slowly and let the air out. This was going to be harder than he thought. Again he stood up carefully, pressed his hand on the bandaged wound and walked slowly to the balcony. There was a garden. It spread around the house for miles on end it seemed. A few hundred meters away was a tree. A linden, and beneath it were two figures.

The door to his room busted open and Arthur turned around, pain ripping through him, to see who it was. His stomach dropped to his feet and he swallowed hard…Now he was sure. The Britannia Angel hated him. With a passion.

* * *

Please review and if you've noticed a mistake in the Spanish can you tell me? Thanx!


	4. The Damsel in distress

And yes, it`s finally here! The thing about a 100 of you had been waiting for! And I love you for it~ Here`s my proof! :D

Please enjoy and deepest apologies for the delay :S

* * *

"I'm telling you! It's the truth!" More laughter erupted around the room and another wave of desperation washed over him.

"Wait! Wait! Silence!" King Philip rose from his place at the head of the table "You come here and dare say obloquy about The Spanish Empire! Our Beloved country!"

"I swear to God I'm telling you the truth! Every sailor on that ship is my witness!"

"And what is their word worth? A bunch of crooks and good - for - nothings?" someone added and the room exploded in exclamations and grunts of agreements.

Guzman looked around. Now that he went back over it, it was a bad idea from the beginning. He should have talked with the King in private, this way maybe? But his outrage knew no boundaries! It was blasphemy! God was going to punish them all for the actions of their country and if the King didn`t do anything they were all lost!

"Alonso!" Someone snapped at him and he realized that another insult concerning him had been passed around the table. "Tell us again, would you? The dirty deeds that our beloved Antonio had been up to?"

"It's no joke! King Philip, I'm begging you! Please listen to me! The Spanish Empire is being intimate with that filthy…"he sputtered, his breath suddenly coming short and his voice failing him.

"Blasphemy! Your Highness, I think Alonso, here, has overstepped the boundaries of what's polite and entertaining and should be punished."

Alonso's head snapped to the man that had just spoken. He couldn`t recognize the voice and in the dim light he couldn`t properly see his face. They really didn`t believe him! Were they blind? Were they deaf?

"Everyone leave!" The laughter and jokes stopped immediately and all the higher royalties turned towards the king. "You want me to teach him a lesson, don`t you?" A series of nods and puzzled looks, but they followed their rulers orders and soon the small dining room was left empty.

"Your Highness?"

"Take a seat, Alonso." He did as told, taking back his place and the king continued "How many times do I have to tell you that Antonio is a private matter? What do those fools know? You`re only making a joke out of yourself!"

"My apologies, King Philip."

"What are you apologizing for? Your inability to judge a situation?"

"I…" But the king waved him to keep quiet.

"What did you see?"

"The Spanish Empire… he… was being intimate with that scoundrel! The British Empire! He has no shame! He was… touching him in front of everyone! God will surely punish us!"

"Enough! Antonio is doing no such thing!"

"I saw it with my own eyes, Your Highness! Something needs to be done, before…!"

"Are you telling me what to do? You've lost all reason, Guzman! I know my country and no such blasphemy is happening! Leave! ...before I decide to punish you for real!"

Guzman opened his mouth to say something, but it was useless. If the king didn`t believe him there was nothing that could be done. He jumped on his feet and flew out of the room.

* * *

"I knew you were one tough mother fucker the moment I saw those eyebrows of yours!" The voice exploded in the room and Arthur had to clench his skull, afraid that it will break into million little piece. "Ha - ha! See? I told you he's gonna make it through!" Gilbert turned towards someone behind him.

"Be quiet, will you? He just woke up!" A wand hit Gilbert on the head before the owner stepped in the room.

"But, sweetheart, he was as good as dead when I pulled him out!" Gilbert jumped towards Arthur and put a hand around his shoulders "Someone had really done a trick on you! You were as good as dead! Thank God I was there to save you from the big bad sharks!"

A shiver went down Arthur's body. Of all the people... of all possible places he could end up.. it just had to be Gilbert, didn`t it? Annoyance and exhaustion bubbled in him like black tar. It quickly soaked him in, blocking the pain and saturating his being. It condensed on his face, forming a perfect mask of empty politeness. Just a small voice at the back of his head told him that Gilbert was more than probably right. Bleeding in open waters was a one way ticket to Hell...

"Then I own you a debt, Mister?"

"Beilschmidt, Gilbert Beilschmidt, King of Prussia! This is my lovely wife Roderich Beilschmidt."

Arthur smiled and reached out his hand, not faltering even for a second. He pushed away the questions that gathered like a cloud of overactive bees in his head. King? Was Gilbert governing himself? Roderich also... He had to admit that as ludicrous as this was it wasn't as good as Francis? He shook his head. He simply refused to think about Francis. If he could he would strangle the Angel just for this? Maybe if he wished for it really _really_ badly...

"And your name, Sir?" Roderich interrupted his thoughts.

"Arthur… Jones, Arthur Jones." He added quickly as the Austrian's suspicious gaze inspected him. "Captain of the "Marina" trading ship, sailing under the British crown."

"Jones, huh? And how did you ended up talking to the fishes, Arthur?" Gilbert asked, pulling him even closer.

Arthur opened his mouth to say something. Blame the pirates? Seemed like a good idea. There was no way in hell Gilbert wouldn`t know about the battle he had with Antonio...

But Roderich interrupted. He yanked Gilbert by the collar and added quickly: "We shall leave the matter for later. For now the most important thing is that you rest, Captain Jones. There will be plenty of time to discuss matters later." Arthur was pushed into the bed and covers were shoved beneath and around him.

"But, honey, the pirates?" Gilbert got no further. His "honey" turned around and flipped him over the head, so hard that Arthur flinched from pain.

"I said later." it was stern and not open for discussion. "I'll send someone over with food. You must be hungry. It's been more than a week." With that said both of them exited the room.

Arthur watched darkly as they left the room. With Gilbert there was always only one question to ask: friend or enemy? He still didn`t know which one was more dangerous.

* * *

Antonio stepped out of the small carriage. His boots squashed in the mud. The drizzle that fell from the gray sky blurred the air and made it impossible to see anything but shades of gray and black. It quickly soaked him to the bone leaving him dirty and tired. It was impossible for anyone to be hiding in the mucky shadows, waiting for a princes that might just come. He sent his man anyway. They went around checking every crevice and shadow beneath the bushes and trees.

He turned around and helped the Italian princes to get out. If he had to be honest he had no idea why he was here with her. Alcántara had left with Francis, his purpose to escort her to Paris. Antonio was left alone, wondering what was he supposed to do on this journey. Protect her? That much was clear, but to where and why? Well, the why wasn`t that hard to figure out either. There was some religious war going on around France and he was not allowed to take Maricel with him. It was going to stand out too much or some other crap like that. How exactly was he supposed to protect the precious Italian princes if he didn't have a weapon was his own problem. But hey, he could always use a sword if he wanted! Antonio cursed for the millionth time that day. He really should have learned how to use it. But there were guns and dynamite, and bombs and lasers and computer viruses and oh! look! who needed swords anymore?

Romano wrapped a hand around his, forcing him out of his thoughts and nodding towards a hoggish building that was drooping on the side. The silt made roof wasn`t quite there anymore and the lime walls were patched with whatever was at hand. Antonio didn`t really trust the whole structure. He was willing to bet big money on it falling apart at the next blow of the wind.

"Shall we go in then?" He smiled at Roma and was tugged inside.

Two soldiers of their escort were inside, talking to a tall, slightly rounded man. He puffed a long gray hair out of his face and shrugged his shoulders and blabbered something Antonio didn't really understood. It was some French dialect that was too far off of the original for him to get anything. It took a few minutes of heated discussion before the owner sighed and yelled something. A young boy appeared from another room and received quick orders, before running off to somewhere.

"They'll cooperate, mi Capitan." One of the soldiers came to inform them "We'll have to wait until they prepare a room, so if you could wait here…" He gestured around with his hands, his brows furrowing in displeasure that he was even forced to suggest something like that. The reception room of the inn ware a few dirty tables covered with drunkards, most of which were already sleeping heavily. Drool, alcohol and what Antonio hoped wasn`t half processed food had dried out on the tables in front of them. The smell was strong enough to chase away any sane 21st century person, but back in the days water wasn`t all that popular with the folks.

"It's fine." Antonio assured. He turned around to look at Romano and opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. On the way here he had tried finding a topic of conversation, but the other had remained silent. This time he didn`t bother. He leaned on one of the tables and simply enjoyed the music. It was one of the oldest melodies known to man - drunk snoring, loud burping and flies feeding off what Antonio refused to identify as half processed food. He couldn`t help, but wonder how humanity survived before the invention of alcohol. Then finally the inn owner appeared again with the boy. They whispered something to the soldier and he nodded.

"The room is ready."

It wasn't anything worth waiting for in Antonio's opinion. There was a bed that looked rather uncomfortable at one end, a heap of blankets on the other, a cupboard, a few chairs and a small table. It was worn out, but surprisingly clean.

"If there is anything, we'll be down the corridor, Sir."With that the door clicked closed and they were left alone.

"Fucking losers! I thought they'll never leave us alone!" Antonio jumped at the sound and spun around to be met with angry green eyes. Romano tore away the mask from his face before continuing "Are you just gonna fucking stand there? Take this rag off!" He gave a hard tug on the dress but to no avail.

Antonio blinked and stared. So maybe he was slow to react today, but who could blame him? Roma glared at him and he realized he had a big stupid grin plastered in his face. Roma was male! He skipped happily behind the boy and began on the task.

"Where did you get it from anyway?" He asked pulling the cords and ribbons that kept the dress together.

"The English Queen… just cut it! I have another one anyway…"

Antonio took out the knife from underneath his vest and started cutting at the expensive material. Rich embroidery and expensive adornments gave away easily and the dress was ruined within moments. Next came the cartwheel and corset. He ripped everything until Romano was standing in front of him in nothing but a chemise. He knew it was only that, he could see just the boy's bottom peeking suggestively from underneath the shirt. The smaller man turned stretched and muttered something in relief before flopping down on the bed.

"What does he want to know?"

"What?" Antonio asked, watching how the chemise moved with every breath Romano took. He sat down next to him. One green eye opened to glare at him, but it was half hearted at best.

"What what? Prussia, Gilbert. You're supposed to go back… or you forgot already?"

"Ah…" He answered simply, not sure where this was going. Why would Gilbert want anything to do with his Romano?

A leg slung over him and the boy was suddenly sitting on his lap. He was pressed down on the mattress with Romano hovering over him.

"Is that all you're going to say, fucker! AH! Why are you such a..!" He clenched his eyes and his body trembled softly with pent up emotions. "Just take me…" The whisper made Antonio's heart break. It had been a long time since Romano had sounded so broken, defeated. What was going on here? He hugged the boy closer to his chest and kissed the soft hair. "Heartless bastard. That's what you are. Why won't you save me?"

Soft, bitter kisses littered his face. The hands that had supported Romano wrapped around his neck and the smaller pressed fully against him. He entangled his fingers in the dark hair and guided Roma's lips to his. He wanted to ease his pain, even though he understood he was causing it in some way. For a moment the other froze, but then his lips opened and he kissed him fully and desperately.

* * *

Arthur had closed his eyes and unintentionally dozed off. A click and soft footsteps brought him back to reality. He buried his face in the pillow, waiting for the other to leave. He wasn't ready for what other surprises the blasted Angel had in store for him.

"Hey, are you awake?" His eyes snapped open at the sound of that voice. Alfred was putting down a tray of food on the chair beside the bed. A bright smile was directed his way. "Are you hungry? I can prepare those for you."

Arthur nodded. Was this really Alfred? _His_ Alfred? The one he had left back in his own world? Or was this just another illusion like Gilbert and Roderich? Arthur watched carefully as Alfred took the tray and sat on a chair. He started slicing the bread and preparing something that he deemed edible. Just a gesture gone wrong or a smile too forced was enough to know.

"I am really glad you have woken up. For a moment there you scared us all." Right now he was talking perfect English, but Arthur could've sworn that diary was in German. What was Alfred doing here anyway? Why was he living in Gilbert's house? Or was he just visiting? "But you're going to be alright. That's all that matters. The doctor went to the village nearby to help a woman, but he is going to be back this evening. He can tell for sure?" Alfred let the thought trail off before sitting on his bed "I hope you don't mind? Here."

Arthur took the tray. It was soup with some herbs, Alfred had just put in fresh sliced bread. His stomach gave a loud sound of appreciation and just now he understood how hungry he was. He threw himself in the food and stuffed it his mouth, so fast he couldn't taste what exactly it was. All he knew was that it smelt good and did the trick. The bow was empty faster than he wanted it to be. He looked up at Alfred and almost jumped at the intensity he found in those blue eyes.

"I'm going to ask them for more." Alfred took the tray from him and exited the room.

Arthur slumped on the bed, his stomach filling up the room with miserable sounds. It wasn't his Alfred after all. It was just a copy, just something that his imagination had given birth to. Disappointment dug in his already empty stomach.

* * *

Antonio woke up by disappointment. The feeling had been his bed partner for too many mornings for him not to recognize it. He knew why. All he had to do was stretch his arm and feel the cold sheets to know that he was alone. But it didn`t have the usual bite of loneliness. Sure enough as soon as he opened his eyes he saw Roma sitting stark naked on the window sill with his back towards him.

"What would the watch say if they see a naked man in the princess' room?"

"Fuck if I care." Roma didn`t even turn to look at him. Not that he was surprised. It was normal and he stopped taking it personally a long time ago. Yet there was something sad about waking up in a cold, empty bed. One thing he had to admit: Arthur cuddled.

Laughter erupted from his throat and Roma finally looked at him. No, it wasn`t that. It was more like they both passed out of exhaustion and didn`t care enough to move.

"What`s so funny?"

"Nothing." Antonio waved his hand, taking deep breaths in order to calm down.

"Bastard." Roma muttered under his breath, but didn`t say anything else. There was something off about his behavior. Antonio stood up and stretched before walking to his lover and wrapping his arms around him.

"¿Estás bien?" _(Are you all right?)_ he whispered softly, nuzzling the soft ear.

"¡Claro que no!" Roma hissed, but refused to give any more details. They stood like that for a moment longer. Outside the soldiers were already preparing their carriage for departure. They seemed such good little soldiers. He knew all of them were ready to give their lives for him. He could feel it in their hearts. Yet they looked so small and insignificant. Tomorrow they die.

Antonio tightened his arms around the boy. This... this was so much different than anything he had ever felt or anyone he had ever been with. It was love and lies, smokes and mirrors. There were things they had always ever been - France was tender love with a dash of perverseness in it, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland was a prim gentleman with the soul of a pirate, while South Italy? South Italy was a parade of colors - a ball of elegant masks and expensive dresses under which were hidden guns, drugs and dirty money. Much like Spain himself. Because Spain was passion, beating with the pulse of life under the hot rays of the sun. Spain was an oriental love and gipsy lies. He liked to believe that with time he had become a better person. That he couldn`t strangle to death the person he was fucking anymore. But that was a lie... another one... just like all the rest, because... _"Te quiero..."_ _(I love you…)_he didn`t dare say it out loud... he felt it from the bottom of his little black heart, but if that was true why was he here and not holding the real Romano?

* * *

And YES! Lol done and done~ Don`t know when the next chapter's gonna be – have a 3 weeks exams session in front of me and then… _Doomsday!_

Hope you enjoyed guys and hope to hear from you~

Out X.x


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